1995

Sirius loves his wife. He loved the way you would trace his tattoos every morning with a familiar care; the way your scent lingered on him; how your hands sunk into the fur of his animagus form, scratching at the places that made the wolfdog close his eyes in content; the comfort you have him when Sirius stumbled home just after another Order mission.

Maybe these were memories of a past life - Sirius' life before Azkaban - but mostly it stayed the same between you two.

In the 12 years when Sirius was locked away, you never took the Black Family heirloom off your ring finger. You never gave Sirius an explanation, and he never asked for one - he just knew.

But here, standing in front of the Order members at 12 Grimmauld Place was weird. Trying to explain what this woman, who just walked into the house like she owned it, meant to him was different.

A flicker of bare recognition on Remus face, only hope in the sea of confusion and mistrust of Molly, Arthur, and Kingsley; pure confusion at why the others were acting like this on Tonks', as well as the teenagers' faces and a grumble of damn death eater from Moody.

Great start for Sirius.

It's a delicate dance between them - a secret that they waltz around. They know where they stand with each other - if the Black Family heirloom sitting on your ring finger means anything.

But to everyone else - friends and especially family - the Order and the Death Eaters, everyone, they're strangers. Your last name and your relations would be misunderstood, not accepted by the Order, mistrusted by the light side. At the same time you had to show no weakness to the dark side that's always watching you.

But you and Sirius decided days ago to stop hiding, at least from the Order, from Sirius' version of family.

And it didn't matter to Sirius right now - he was the rightful owner of 12 Grimmauld Place, and you would be staying here regardless of the Order's opinion.